


Salvation

by wings128



Series: Once Upon A Fandom Fairy Tale [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Temporary Character Death, Dean in Hell, Fairy Tale Elements, First Kiss, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e16 No Rest For The Wicked, Pre-Episode: s04e01 Lazarus Rising, Raised You From Perdition, The Little Mermaid Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 09:27:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2223945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wings128/pseuds/wings128
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester cannot be saved, if he...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salvation

**Author's Note:**

> Written for dreamsofspike's prompt at LJ's Fairy Tale Meme:   
> _"How about Supernatural and The Little Mermaid? Preferably Dean/Cas or Sam/Cas but whatever you want, really."_
> 
> My first and only Destiel fic. Hope you enjoy.

Dean Winchester cannot be saved, if he is not first purged. Pain and fire shall cleanse him, for he is Michael’s one true vessel. It must be so; for it was written at the dawning of Creation.

As it is in Heaven, so it shall be on Earth. 

Son against son, brother against brother. 

It shall end, as it was begun.

Castiel bowed under the weight and heartbreak of his revelation, his hands cradling his head as silent tears streamed down his cheeks only to fall on Jimmy’s suit pants; damp spots visible for but a moment, before being absorbed by thirsty blue fabric. Symbolic perhaps of how Dean, humanity’s humble defender, would be consumed by Hell’s fiery fury.

“No!” He wanted to shout, but the sound was barely audible beyond the croak of his own vessel’s throat, incapable of expressing such misery.

Castiel, Warrior of Heaven and Angel of the Lord, had always followed orders; absolute faith in the rightness of his Father’s Holy Word. Not a solitary moment within the far reaches of Eternity had he ever contemplated disobedience. Until now.

Dean Winchester had been his charge; his only order from the Host since Mary Campbell Winchester had called him forth for her eldest son. Castiel’s most holy privilege was to guard one who possessed such striking green eyes; such purity of loyalty, and strength. All for a prophecy, scribed before this human, this beautiful man – one of God’s most stunning creations – had drawn his first breath.

It was nonsensical. 

The power of Heaven at his fingertips, yet he could not prevent the extinction of Dean. 

The universe was not expansive enough to contain his grief.

“You will not go quietly,” Castiel whispered, a smile of approval and amusement tugging at his vessel’s mouth, “nor shall you go alone, for I shall be with you.”

If it were possible for a member of the Heavenly Host to love anything other than their Holy Father, Castiel was him; for he loved Dean Winchester so fiercely he would risk the wrath of Heaven, to protect the messy, sinful, courageous human in his charge.

Castiel had watched as the brothers fought against prophecy, tore themselves to shreds upon the unrelenting certainty of God’s will. Something within him breaking as the terrified Sword of Michael careened to his end. The moment when those beautiful eyes would close out the world forever; without ever having gazed upon his angel’s love. Never to know how much he was loved, by the being who had been his since the beginning. Their destinies linked by a Creator with a twisted sense of ironic symmetry.

As it is in Heaven, so it must be on Earth.

~*~

There had always been an emptiness inside him. Dean knew, but never acknowledged its presence, first too young for the words to describe it. Once old enough, he’d filled the gnawing at his centre with humanity’s favourite vices; sex and booze, heavy on both. If the payment was killin’ a few monsters; staining his innocence with the knowledge that evil truly did lurk in the shadows, then Dean was okay with that.

He had his baby, and he had his kid brother. What more did a man need? 

Dean downed another shot and ignored the dark whisper from deep within. He had what? Twelve hours? Dean was gonna go out with Lilith’s blood on his hands. His last act topside, and payment for everything the bitch had put them through. 

~*~

They descended in an undeniable relentless force of Holy destruction no enemy would dare oppose; crashing from their own realm through the barrier, and into Hell and Damnation itself, her black-eyed defenders pitifully insignificant against the onslaught of Castiel and his fellow angels. They had deserted the garrison for the charge, laying waste to all that stood before them. Heaven’s might was resplendent in its own furious determination; absolute in their unwavering faith. Dean Winchester would be saved.

Beyond the thrill of his soul, Castiel felt the brush of his brothers’ wing tips. Their touch as ethereal as it was unanimous in their united resolve. Though Castiel would be the one to raise Michael’s Sword from Perdition, his brothers would afford him the time to achieve his mission.

Time. It was such a mysterious illusion that Castiel had learnt to endure; forced to watch from afar while his charge suffered his own existence, never knowing his every action was designed to one day lead Heaven’s armies in his defence.

An echo of sound, sudden and electrifying, broke over their front lines; a tsunami of fire and brimstone, heat enough to singe feathers, yet insignificant to halt their will. The final barrier was breached, and Castiel could once again hear the heart screams of his charge.

He surged forward, the spearhead of the juggernaut, his fellow Warriors-of-Heaven taking up position – a flurry of black and gleam of blade.

It had begun. There would be no retreat till Dean was with him; rising through all nine circles of Hell. Their ascension shielded, protected and defended by those willing to die for the fulfilment of their Father’s Word. A prophecy long awaited.

Castiel homed in. Drawn to that all-but-silent whisper of a human soul wailing in eternal terror; a soft glow, so inexplicably fragile in its hellish torment. 

Castiel reached forth, and with no notice for their surroundings, plucked Dean Winchester from the demon Alistair’s clutches. His grip on bloodied flesh sure and possessive as he lifted Dean; free from resistance, free from Hell’s own gravitational force. Free to rise, to climb, to ascend.

“It’s you.” Castiel heard the awe, the gratitude, beneath the scream-parched whisper.

“Yes, it is me, Castiel, Dean Winchester, you have been saved.”

Dean’s fingers scrabbled then, searched for frantic purchase.

“Be calm. For I have raised you from perdition. Just as my Father’s edict decreed, and I shall not lose you again.”

~*~

Dean lay in the dark, but he wasn’t scared. Castiel was with him. Dean lay embraced in strong arms, cocooned in feathers as soft and sensual as black velvet, and looked into the intense blue of his angel’s eyes.

“Take me with you.” Dean pleaded; that green gaze sheened with the tears of longing would forever be Castiel’s downfall.

“I cannot.” He whispered, separation colouring his refusal. “You were chosen Dean, and you must follow your destiny, as must I, as must we all.”

Dean’s head fell against Castiel’s chest, the wet of his tears icy with the sting of rejection. “We’re together now.”

“Yes, and we shall be again; only when that time comes, you will not remember this.”

“I will remember you Cas.” Dean clutched, his fist tightening in the lapel of the coat Castiel wore.

“You will not.” Castiel intoned. “I shall remember for you. Until we are reunited.”

“How long?” Dean asked, uncertain if he really wanted Cas to answer.

“You would not remember should I tell you, Dean.”

“Sonovabitch!”

The familiar curse had Castiel leaning in to kiss the lips he’d desired for too long. Dean’s groan of welcome and want encouraged him to delve deep, to taste everything he knew his love to be. And Dean’s angel feasted; drank his eternal fill.

Cool and refreshing as water in the desert. That’s what kissing Cas was like for Dean. The emptiness inside him was satisfied at last, and the feeling was utter relief. But he could sense the angel, his lover pulling back; yielding to the separation that waited to claim them. He tightened his arms around the angel’s shoulders, muscles weak as spun sugar when pitted to Heaven’s will; lips bereft, and soul twisting in grief once more.

“We shall meet again, Dean, for it is written that we are to be united in Creation’s most fiercest battle.” Castiel intoned to keep from tasting the ambrosia of his human’s mouth for a second time. 

With one majestic sweep of his onyx-plumed wings, he was away; doomed by prophecy to watch from afar, with the echo of Dean Winchester’s _NO!_ forever ringing in his ears.

~*~

Dean jerked awake with the echo of a heart-breaking sob gasping from his chapped lips.

He was still in the dark, though it felt more confined - not the vague sense of comforting warmth he sensed a moment before. His body seemed…more real, than a moment ago too. Flashes of red, screams of terror, and pain undefined, tore at Dean’s mind; lit the claustrophobic black with the gleam of his tormentor’s demented pleasure. 

Dean felt it, felt the cool square of metal in his hand – his zippo. ‘How the h-’  
Never one to ask why – that was Sammy’s kink – he fumbled with fingers that seemed all too mortal, too clumsy for a disembodied soul enslaved to Hell’s BDSM dungeon for the last four decades. 

The snick and spark of fuel and flame lit up the boards of his coffin before it flickered and died. Dean screamed till his jaw popped and his temples threatened to burst. He screamed in a voice leached of all its power, by its forty years of torment and terror.

“HELP!...HELP!...HELP!”


End file.
